True Feeling of Love (APH Italy Brothers Fiction)
by Owlie-Tweets
Summary: We all know the assertive side of Romano, of course. But can he feel? Does he have a soft side? And who does he bring the soft side out to? Ah! Just so you know, Folkert is a fan name I found for Germania, just in case you weren't sure. ;D SHIPPINGS MENTIONED Spamano RomexGermania


_*Grandfather Rome's POV*_

I sit on my cloud, sighing heavily and chewing the inside of my cheek. Why do I feel so bored tonight? I can't think of much else to do except sit and do nothing.

Folkert seems to notice I'm not myself either. "Hm? Vhat's se matter, Augustus?," he questions, his long, white-blonde blowing in the winds surrounding him.

I sigh. "I don't know," I answer plaintively. "I'm a-so bored. I just can't think of-a much else to do now."

Folkert sits beside me, and looks up, his violet-blue eyes filled with thought. "Unfinished work," he mumbles. "Have you some?"

I fall quiet to think about it, stretching out to lie on my stomach. Unfinished work? I don't have anything started that I'm able to think of. Out of nowhere, I remember about my little Feli and Lovi. Hm...it's been a while. I haven't seen them in a bit and maybe I was looking for a chace to...-

"That's it!," I cry.

Folkert cocks his head. "It?"

"It's my little grandsons," I sigh. "I guess I just really miss them."

Folkert purses his lips with a nod. "Find sem?," he suggests. "It's nighttime - no one vhill see you but them, since sey're all sleeping..."

"Yeah," I respond, standing up. "I'll go and-a look."

After sitting on the edge of the cloud for a bit, I look down, and see a curled-up figure in the corner of a room. He has dark auburn hair, and a single curl. And if I listen carefully, I can hear faint whimpers. Very quietly, I descend from the Heavens, and down to Earth.

_*Romano's POV*_

Curled up into a ball in the corner of the room, I try to keep from moving and hurting my injuries. At first, I was trying to keep from crying, but that ship sailed about five minutes ago. Unfortunately, I'm now whimpering like the little pussy Gilbert just proved me to be.

I don't remember much now. All I remember was Gilbert screaming "Fahr zur Hölle, du Dummkopf!," then the next thing I felt was pain all over as he viciously beat me up. And now, I have a big, black eye, bloody nose, and a bruised, sprained right wrist that hurts like fuck to bend. The worst part is, Antonio isn't home to protect me. I'm all alone.

As I sit crunched into a ball, crying like a baby, afraid that Gilbert is going to come back and hurt me. I'm already shaking with fear, and the last thing I need now is for Gilbert to see he's successfully scared me.

Just when I don't expect it, there's the sound of footsteps walking around behind me. I squeal and begin to cry harder with fear, hiding my face with my one good arm. Gilbert came back...!

But then I quickly realize that the door never opened - that fucking German imbecile probably didn't walk in. Then...who is it...?

Sniffling wetly, I look over my shoulder, still hiding my battered up, wet face, to see not Gilbert...but my Grandfather.

I begin to feel better, a bubble of hope rising up in my shattered heart. But everything pops, and I feel broken once again, upon remembering that Feliciano was always Grandpa's favorite; he's probably looking for him, but found me instead because we look similar from the back.

With another sniffle, trying to hold back a sob, I turn back to the wall, and allow my lip to freely tremble.

"Ciao, mio nipote," Grandpa says softly, as I hear his footsteps on the wood floor again. "Whatever is the matter?"

Manning the hell up and clearing my throat, I manage a tough, strong voice. "Aren't you-a looking for Feliciano?," I bark, my voice only a tiny bit nasally. "Because he's a-not here. He's at the Axis's house. Now a-go. Just...leave me-a here alone!"

Even my own words hurt me; I can't conceal the heavy bawling anymore. Grandpa pads over softly and kneels behind me.

"Mio nipote," he whispers softly. "I've come to see you. I saw you in a-here crying, and I just-a wanted to be sure you were okay."

I snuffle again, swiping a hand over my face, blood from my nose staining my hand as well. "_Well?_," I retort.

"Well, _are_ you alright?," he asks softly, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder, his very touch almost a therapeutic one.

I sniffle. "S-sì," I whimper. My lip trembles and I burst into tears all over again.

Grandpa frowns, and pets my auburn locks. "Lovino, I don't think you are alright," he whispers. "Something's going on. What happened, nipote?"

I turn to look at Grandpa with lame, teary, sorry eyes, and feel my chin completely quiver with my lip. He frowns again, and holds out both arms for me to fall into.

As I cry heavily into his arms, I wipe my bloody nose on the drape over his torso. "Th-that cagna Prussian that's the German's brother came in h-here and-a b-beat me up," I blubber into his chest. "A-and now my n-nose is bloody, my eye is-a sw-swollen and sore and m-my wrist really hurts! I think it br-br-bro-o-ken!"

Grandpa strokes my hair, and wipes my tears away. "Ohh, your wrist hurts?," he croons softly. "Here, let Grandpa see."

Like an injured puppy, I hold up my right hand, afraid to flex it at the wrist.

He carefully places a hand under my wrist to look at it, silently examining it. "Well, it doesn't a-look all that bad," he mumbles softly. "I can fix it if you'd a-like."

I hide my face in Grandpa's chest. "_Non!_," I sob. "No pain! I'm afraid of pain! I don't want it to h-h-hurt!"

Grandpa smiles softly, and holds my wrist in his hand, and covers it softly with the other. Slowly, there are a few ticklish tingles that dance around the area softly. Like water washing away stones from the shoreline, the tingles trickle away, and take the pain with it.

Grandpa removes his hand, and holds it carefully from underneath. "All better!," he whispers softly with a heartwarming smile.

And he's right - he completely banished the black and blues around the area. To show that he got rid of the sore, he bends my hand back, and pushes it downwards carefully.

"G...grazi, Grandfather," I say quietly, surprising even myself.

Grandpa brushes the bangs from my eyes, looking right down into them. "Of course, Lovino," he whispers. I'm mesmerized with staring into his golden brown eyes, trying to think of something to say to him. But I just can't...but it doesn't mean I don't feel. Because I do. It's an odd emotion that I only feel around Antonio...and once in a blue moon with Feliciano when he's not being a royal pain in my ass with his "huggy therapy" and "make-it-better kisses..."

...And I think this feeling is..._love_...

I bury my face in Grandpa's shoulder, finally knowing what to say. It takes a little bit of courage, but I squeak it out into his ear. "T...ti amo, Nonno," I whisper, taking a gently handful of his chestnut brown curls, being careful not to pull them too hard.

Grandpa chuckles softly, and rubs my back softly. "Anch'io ti amo, Lovi," he whispers back, propping himself up on one knee, and allowing me to sit on the other.

Grandpa and I talk about how things have been, after such a long period of..well...not being able to see him for so long. I tell him about Antonio, and how much I love that tomato-eating bastard. How he proposed to me not so long ago, and we're getting married in a beautiful, Spanish cathedral.

Grandpa holds me close to his shoulder, and says how proud he is of me for finding the love of my life, making me...smile. He cradles me in his arms, and tells me that him and that other Folkert he used to hate is his good friend now...and even his very own lover. I nuzzle him, and tell him I'm just as proud of him...and how much I missed him.

Grandpa grins to me, the looks up at the ceiling. I do too, but I can't see anything unusual. Must be one of the fancy things only gods can do or something.

"It's almost sunrise, Lovi," Grandpa tells me. "I need to go soon."

I frown and nuzzle him again. "C-come back soon?," I ask hesitantly, twirling my curl around my finger.

He nods with a smile. "Of course, nipote," he whispers. Grandpa picks me up, and carries me over to a couch on the other side if the room.

"Sleep well, Lovino," I can hear him whisper. But I'm already partly asleep, cozy and warm, the feelings of love for my Grandfather still dancing in my veins.


End file.
